Housewarming
by starboarder
Summary: Set before Dark Swan, Emma finally moves into her own place. At her housewarming party, Emma's guests help her come to terms with what the move truly symbolizes for her, and she and Killian reach a milestone.


Housewarming  


"I really need my own place." - Emma Swan, 4x04

* * *

She breaks the news at breakfast.

"By the way, I've found a place."

Her parents look up and though she can tell by their slightly startled faces that they know what she means, she elaborates anyway.

"It's not far, just a couple of blocks from here actually, so I can still swing by and babysit Neal anytime you want." Her parents say nothing, and Emma hurries to fill the silence.

"800 square feet, 2 bedrooms, so Henry can have his own room. Hardwood floors, and after Boston I can't really complain about the rent..."

"That's great, Emma!" her mother says. Mary Margaret is doing an almost convincing version of delight.

"Yes, it is!" David adds. "We're both really happy for you."

Emma wishes her superpower weren't quite so powerful. She wants more than anything to believe her father, but she swears she can hear tension in his voice, an undernote of disappointment in her mother's.  
"When do you move out? I mean, in?" Mary Margaret asks.

"Next week."

"Oh, so soon?"

"Yes, but once I'm unpacked I'm having a housewarming party, and you're all invited!"

"That... sounds like fun!"

Emma is beginning to wish she'd never brought any of this up. But what was the alternative? Sneaking out like a thief in the night, leaving a note propped on the dining table? No, this is better, however painful.

She shakes her head to clear it. She needs to spin this move as a good thing and it's too late to backtrack. She's already signed the lease.

"I can help you pack if you want," her mother says brightly.

"And I can move your stuff. There's a lot more space in the truck than in your little bug."

"Thanks Dad, but Hook has already said he'll help me."

"Oh, okay. Well, if you change your mind..."

"I'll know who to call." Emma smiles at her father, then takes a bite of toast. Her parents lapse back into silence. This is worse than she feared. She feels so guilty she wants to hug them both, just to break the tension, but that would accomplish nothing. Instead she looks conspicuously at the clock on the wall.

"Oh, I gotta go or I'll be late."

"You can drive in with me, Emma. We still have time," David assures her.

"I'm actually meeting Hook for coffee. Sorry, Dad. I'll see you at work, okay?"

She is up from the table and at the door in seconds and just catches her mother's "Have a nice day, sweetheart!" before she's gone.

* * *

The move itself goes fine, but if she's honest, that's mostly because she takes time off and moves her things out of her parents' place while Mary Margaret and David are at work so she doesn't have to deal with their offers to help. Even Killian, after a few quick trips to haul her meager possessions in her tiny car, is left standing at the door. She knows he wants to be let in, knows he would welcome the chance to help unpack the handful of boxes and happily eat pizza with her on the floor until her new furniture is delivered, but instead she dismisses him with an insufficient "thank you" and an even more insufficient explanation, "I have to do this on my own." Like her parents, he doesn't press her, and she gets her wish. She has her own place at last, but what should be a cause for celebration leaves her feeling sick at heart. What has she done, and why did she do it? The reasons, once so clear, are buried under the weight of some unfathomable mix of emotions and she is too confused to attempt to unearth them. When the evening of the promised housewarming rolls around, she's still all at sea, and when the doorbell rings, she is convinced this is the biggest mistake she's made since arriving in Storybrooke.

Regina and Henry are the first to show up, which Emma finds slightly disconcerting. She has been so convinced her parents would arrive first, she's been bracing for it all evening, and so she's momentarily thrown at the sight of her son and the mayor. Luckily she manages to summon a smile.

"Henry, Regina, come on in. Welcome." The box of doughnuts Regina holds out to her acts as a convenient buffer between them.

"Is Robin not coming?"

"Babysitting trouble. He'll be along as soon as he can get someone to stay with Roland."

"Oh, he could have brought him."

"Well, too late now." Emma's not sure if Regina is implying that she, Emma, was remiss in her invitation, but before she can puzzle over it any longer, the mayor says,

"Nice place you have here."

"Yeah, Mom, this is awesome!"

"Thanks, Henry. I'm glad you like it. Want to check out you room?" Henry races off to explore the rest of the apartment while Emma goes into the kitchen with the doughnuts.

"You didn't need to bring anything, you know," she tells Regina.

"No, but I wanted to. I was going to bring lasagne but these..."

"Are Henry's favorite," the two women say at the same time, and from across the room they meet each other's eyes and smile. While Emma is putting out napkins the doorbell rings again.

"Can you get it?" Emma calls to Regina.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," Regina says, and Emma turns to see her parents and Killian.

"You know, this is like the start of a joke," Regina observes. "Snow White, Prince Charming, and Captain Hook walk into a house party... "

"Just as long as I'm not the punch line," Emma interrupts, coming forward to meet them. Her father has balloons and champagne, her mother holds a white cake that reads _Welcome Home Emma_ in red icing, and Killian has brought takeout from Granny's and a bottle of rum.

"Sorry we're late," David says.

You're not late. Henry and Regina were early. Hey, where's Neal?"

"Belle's looking after him."

"Okay, well, like I said, whenever you need a babysitter..."

"Of course, but tonight is your party," Mary Margaret smiles at her, and Emma feels the familiar guilt wash over her again.

"Come in, please!" Emma realizes they're still standing in the doorway, and she steps, embarrassed, out of the way. "Leave your coats wherever you want. Make yourselves at home."

They step inside and Emma takes the cake from her mother.

"That cake looks amazing, Mom. Thank you."

"Well, we had to have something sweet to celebrate your new home, Emma."

Emma's smile feels more and more forced, the corners of her mouth trembling.

"I'll just take this to the kitchen."

"Can we help with anything?" Mary Margaret asks.

"Nope, nothing at all!"

"Are you sure? I don't believe you've witnessed my superior champagne cork opening skills," David says.

"I'm good, thanks Dad. I'll be right back."

Emma heads to the kitchen. Killian trails behind her.

"Happy Housewarming, Swan."

"Thanks."

"Is that the right thing to say?"

"How should I know? I've never done this before." Her voice is sharp, irate, and she's instantly regretful.

"I'm sorry."

"You all right, Love? Need a swig of this?" He proffers the rum.

"I'd love some, but if I start now I'll never make it to the end of the night."

"That bad?"

She sets the cake down and turns to face him. "They look so let down."

"Who?"

"My parents. You saw their faces. They're trying so hard but I can tell how disappointed they are. They make me feel so guilty. Am I a terrible person for leaving them before they're ready?"

"No," he assures her. "You're not a terrible person. You're a grown woman who needs her own space. They have another child. They'll survive."

She knows he means it kindly, but she feels slightly envious at the thought of Neal alone with them, sole receiver of their love and attention. She will be the daughter who left, who went away, who abandoned them just when they were all finally starting to feel like a family. She shakes her head.

"I change my mind. Give me that drink."

"Starting early, are we?" Regina has joined them. She leans languidly over the bar, propping herself up on an elbow.

"Don't judge," Emma says. "This party is awkward."

"I'm not judging," Regina insists. "But if you think this party is awkward, it's only because you're making it that way."

"What? How?"

"You're making sad puppydog eyes at everyone, like you have something to apologize for. Honestly, you're as bad as Guyliner here."

"Oh, please!" Emma begins, but Regina cuts her off.

"You're the damn hostess. Act like it! This is a party, not a funeral."

"Well pardon me if I didn't go to fancy royal hostessing school."

"Swan, I don't think that's really a thing..."

Emma is about to snap at him again, but she catches herself and takes a deep breath. Regina is right. She's behaving ridiculously.

"I'm sorry. I just feel like I've betrayed my parents in some way. Like their love and their generosity sharing their home with me wasn't enough."

"Emma, your parents are many things, but they are not selfish. I am certain they don't think you've betrayed them just because you moved out."

"But we were apart for so many years..."

"And now you're not." Regina says it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that Emma recognizes it at once as truth. "You know what, Emma? I think this move frightens you much more than it does them."

"But I was the one who chose this. Why would it frighten me?"

"Maybe because it's a sign you're ready to move on?"

"Move on? But I'm not..."

"With your life. With taking your next step toward your own happy ending. Whatever that might be."

Emma nods. "Okay." Almost involuntarily she glances at Killian, who flashes her a cocky grin. "Okay." She takes another breath and smiles. It's easier this time. "Any other insights, Dr. Freud?"

"Just a question. Will you open that rum already? All this straight-talk is making me thirsty." Regina looks at them dead-pan. Killian quirks an eyebrow.

"I thought you didn't do rum."

"Maybe I've changed." Regina gives a slow smile, and Emma laughs.

"Drinks all around!" Killian announces, and while he's pouring, Henry reappears and asks,

"Hey, can I have some?"

The three adults all speak at once.

"Absolutely not!" Regina says firmly.

"I don't think so, kid," Emma says, more kindly.

"Fine by me," offers Killian. The resulting commotion brings the Charmings in from the living room and before Emma knows it, her mood has lifted as if by magic. As a term of his appeasement, Henry is allowed to choose the music, and his selection – an upbeat dance tune – seems to put a spring in everyone's step. Robin arrives with apologies and a six-pack of ale, the food is put out and the cake is cut, her father opens the champagne with great flourish and to laughing applause, and the balloons drift around, catching the light. The apartment, which mere hours before had seemed empty, mired in gloom, finally feels as it should – like a home.

* * *

Later, as the the party is starting to wind down, Emma emerges from the bathroom and catches her parents talking quietly to each other in the corner of the living room. She doesn't mean to linger but they are leaning against each other in the casual, yet intimate way that she has always regarded with awe and sometimes even a little envy, and she doesn't want to interrupt this obviously private moment. Their conversation is conveniently amplified to an audible level by the acoustics of her sparsely furnished hallway and though she had not intended to eavesdrop, she finds herself doing just that.

"Of course I'm sad that she won't be living at home anymore," her mother is saying, "but honestly I'm surprised she stayed as long as she did."

"What makes you say that?" Her father asks.

"Well what 30-year-old woman with a very new and very serious boyfriend wants to stick around her parents' open-plan and very un-soundproof apartment?"

"I take your point."

"Emma deserves this. Close to her family but not too close, and her own."

"I just wonder how long this will really be Emma's own place."

"What do you mean?" Her mother turns to look at him and Emma shrinks back into the shadows, trying to remain hidden.

"In case you haven't noticed, Hook seems awfully at home here." He nods toward the kitchen where Killian is busy loading up the dishwasher.

"Oh, David, he's just helping. He's helpful. I'm sure Emma appreciates it."

"I'm sure she does. But how long before that appreciation becomes an invitation to move in?"

"Would that really be so bad?"

David sighs. "It's not what I wanted for her. Neal was one thing, the son of the Dark One, but an outlaw..."

"I thought you had a soft spot for outlaws. You married a bandit after all," Mary Margaret reminds him, smiling.

"A bandit who was also a princess," David corrects. "Hook is a pirate."

"He's who our daughter chose. We have to respect that."

"I know. And I do."

"David, I understand where you're coming from, believe me. He's not the man we dreamed of for her. But he's who's here, and I truly believe he cares for Emma. Surely even you can't have failed to see the way he looks at her."

"Like she's the most precious thing in the world? Yes, I've seen it. I recognize that look, that feeling."

"Well then."

"Look. I'm not saying I dislike the guy. As you said, he cares about Emma and he's turned his life around for her, which is more than I would have thought him capable of a year ago. When I think about some of the things he said to me in Neverland, it's hard to believe he's the same man."

"He saved your life in Neverland."

"True." David ponders this for a moment. "Maybe that was the beginning."

"So what's the problem?"

"I'm just having trouble accepting the idea of Hook as my son-in-law. But give me time..."

"Son-in-law? Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?"

"I don't think so, no. I'm in no kind of denial about what this move means. For Emma, for Hook. They're ready to take things to the next level, I see that."

"Well that's very perceptive of you, Honey, but I'm not sure Emma sees it that way."

"Maybe she hasn't admitted it to herself yet, but she does. Hook certainly does, that's obvious."

"If you say so. And don't you think it's about time we started calling him Killian?"

"That'll take some getting used to, but if it makes you happy, I'll try."

"Thank you."

They turn back to the kitchen, where the subject of their conversation has finished tidying up and now is pretending to pull a coin out of Henry's ear.

"He's good to Emma and Henry, isn't he," David observes.

"He is," Mary Margaret agrees. She leans against her husband affectionately. "If we could let Regina into our hearts after all that passed between us, then surely we can find a place for him too. Don't you think?"

"Of course we can. If Emma and Henry have let him into their hearts, then I know we can."

"Maybe we already have."

Her parents kiss and Emma holds her breath. She is still trapped in the hallway, but now she wants to stay there, mull over what she's heard, wonder at how her parents, in the short years that they've known her, can still have such insight. But it isn't to be. Henry spots them and pulls them away, saying,

"Grandpa, Grandma, you have to see this!"

Moments later, Regina approaches her hiding place and catches sight of her.

"The bathroom's through here, I take it?"

"That's right."

"I just wanted to say... this is a nice party, Emma. Thank you, for inviting Robin and me."

"Of course." Regina is about to slip past her when she adds, "It means a lot to me that you came." The mayor stops to give her a rare, warm smile and Emma returns it.

"Now not to ruin a moment, but nature calls..."

"Oh, absolutely." Emma holds up her hands with a laugh and finally goes back into the living room where she lets out a long, slow exhale. The evening is nearly over and it hasn't been a disaster. In fact it's been quite the opposite, if Regina's words are anything to go by. She breathes another sigh and her eyes scan the room for Killian. He's nowhere to be seen. She looks around again, but he's gone.

Emma approaches her parents in confusion.

"Hey, have you guys seen Killian? I mean, Hook?"

"We know who you mean, Emma."

"Okay great. Have you seen him? I stepped away for a minute and he disappeared."

"It's fine. He just went to get something from the truck. He'll be back any moment."  
"He forgot his phone again, didn't he?"

"I don't think so. Not this time."

"This it, David?" Killian is standing in the front doorway holding a large box tied with ribbon.

"Speak of the Devil," David mutters under his breath. To Hook he says, "Yeah, that's the one." He and Mary Margaret begin to usher their daughter over to the couch. "Come on, Emma, sit down here for a sec."

"What's going on?"

"Just a little surprise," her mother says, smiling.

"Okay Emma, close your eyes."

"What?"

"Listen to your father, Swan," Killian advises. "Do as he says."

David gives an overblown expression of astonished delight. "Why, thank you, Killian. I'm going to treasure those words as long as I live."

"No problem, mate."

"Emma, we're serious, close your eyes," Mary Margaret says, and Emma obeys.

"Come on everyone, Emma's about to open her present." She hears her mother ushering Henry, Regina and Robin to gather around. Then she feels the weight of something placed in her lap.

"Can I look now?"

"No, not yet. Open it."

"This feels like a test," Emma remarks, fumbling with the ribbon. "Is this some kind of royal tradition back in the Enchanted Forest?"

"No!" She can hear the laugh in her mother's voice.

"Here, let me." There's a snip as David cuts the ribbon with a pair of scissors.

Emma pulls back the paper and feels the smooth texture of leather. Her fingers trace the edges.

"It's... a book?"

"Not just any book."

"It feels like Henry's story book. Don't tell me there's a sequel..."

"Well, not a sequel per se."

"What?"

"It's okay, you can open your eyes now."

The world comes back into focus, and instead of the familiar lettering of Once Upon a Time, Emma sees a volume covered in crimson leather with gold details but no title. Mystified, she opens to the first page.

"We thought you'd like this better than a house plant."

At the top is her name and birthday, and a cut-and-pasted copy of the illustration of her as a baby from Henry's book. Beneath is a photograph of herself, her parents, her little brother and Henry, taken not long ago at Neal's coronation ceremony. They are crammed into a booth at Granny's, a strange juxtaposition when taken with the curlicued lettering of her name, but she sees it as fitting. This is her family, and this strange mix of people and times and worlds is her story. Her past and her present.

"I do like it. It's..." She flips the pages of the album and sees them covered with Mary Margaret's polaroids and careful script. There are more pictures, some she can't even remember, from occasions when she had no idea anyone was taking photographs. It is as though all the happy moments of her life since coming to Storybrooke have been documented, captured and preserved here. There are selfies of herself and Mary Margaret from when they were roommates, photos of her and Henry getting ice cream, snapshots of the welcome back party when she and her mother returned from the Enchanted Forest through the well, a funny picture of her and David posing with their sheriff badges.

"Mom, Dad, it's wonderful! Thank you!"

"We haven't had many chances to give you presents, Emma."

"We just wanted you to know that wherever you go, you have family. People who care about you. You are so loved, Emma. Whatever happens, never forget that."

"I won't." Emma is misty-eyed now. "I love you guys." She hugs her mother, then her father, and they stay close while she continues flipping the pages.

"These must have taken you ages!"

"I had help," Mary Margaret says with a cryptic smile.

As Emma nears the end of the book it gets easier to turn the pages, and her mother quickly explains,

"We left the last part blank on purpose. They're for you to fill with new memories."

Emma wipes her eyes. "Well let's start right now. Does anyone have a camera? Not a phone, a real camera?"

Mary Margaret leans down to pull the polaroid from her handbag. "Will this do? Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"That's perfect." Emma beckons everyone over. "Come on, picture time."

"Who's going to take the picture?" Henry asks.

"I will, of course." Emma reaches for Mary Margaret's camera, but her mother holds it out of the way.

"Emma, this is your party, your new home. You have to be in the picture. I'll take it."

"No, I will." Regina speaks up. "You Charmings crowd in, I'll do the honors."

"Regina, no. You're part of this family. Like it or not."

"I'll take the picture, and that's final," Robin says. "Regina, go stand by Mary Margaret." Regina consents with a smile, and they begin to position themselves for the photo. Henry stands between his mothers with his grandparents to Regina's left. Emma puts a hand on Henry's shoulder, and with her other hand reaches for Killian. She meets empty air. Turning her head, she sees him sidling off to the corner, surreptitiously moving outside of the frame.

"Hey! No sneaking away," she commands, stepping forward and grabbing his sleeve. "Get in here, Mister. You belong here."

The look he gives her is like a stab to her heart. Beneath all his bravado, she has long seen – continues to see – the loneliness in his eyes, the aching for connection and inclusion. She thinks with shame over all the ways she's hurt him, with words, with actions, with the many carelessly cruel ways she's put him off, shut him out, made fun of his loyalty and taken advantage of his gentle heart. Even her parents, moving from distrust to gradual, if at times grudging, appreciation, have too often let slip their Charming nature and unthinkingly exploited his attachment to her, putting him in harm's way again and again for her benefit. It is so utterly beneath what he deserves, so far from what is fair or right, that she feels deep shame at the way the sadness in his eyes gives way to joy at her words. Too often she forget that, like her, he has been so long without a family that a part of him takes it as a fact of life that he will never belong.

"Are you certain?" he asks, disbelief still written on his face.

"Yes. Don't think for a moment I'm letting you get out of this." It comes out rougher than she intends, but he smiles broadly, seeing beneath her prickly words, returning to her side.

The photo will be a way to make it up to him, a way to tangibly prove to him, and to herself, that even orphans can find happy endings, that even screw-ups – lost girls and pirates alike – can have a second chance.

"Well, if the lady insists."

"The lady does."

* * *

When her guests leave, they do so all at once, first her parents and Henry, then Regina and Robin a moment after, until she and Killian are left standing alone in the entry. He looks around him, unsure of what to do. She realizes she hasn't extended an invitation and he – they both – are expecting one.

"You want to stay for a nightcap? She isn't unconscious of what double-meaning that word holds.

"All right, Love. Don't mind if I do."

"I'm afraid we finished all the rum, though."

"Rum's not really what I had in mind."

"That's a first."

He takes her teasing in stride and reaches out to smooth a stray lock of her hair, and she takes hold of his lapel and leans in to kiss him.

"Is this what you had in mind?"

"Mmm, yes," he murmurs, kissing her back. "This is much more like it."

Slowly, so slowly it is several steps before she notices, he begins backing her toward the couch. She can't help it. She freezes, her eyes meeting his with something like alarm.

"You don't need to be afraid, Emma. I won't hurt you."

"I know you won't."

"Then trust me."

"I do. It's just..."

"What? What's wrong?"

"It's just been awhile. Since I had someone. Since I did this."

She thinks of Walsh, a memory now almost entirely tainted by what she now knows he was. He had been her last partner, the last person she was intimate with, and though her time with him had ended badly to say the least, they had had their moments.

"You're upset. I apologize for pressuring you."

He steps back, considerate of her discomfort, but his disappointment is evident.

"Killian, wait. I do want this... I do want you. You have to believe that."

He says nothing.

"You've been more than patient. I see that, I do. And I'm grateful. Most people wouldn't be so understanding."

"I'm not most people."

"I know that."

"Look, Swan, I won't pretend I'm not feeling a bit... less than patient right now, but I don't want to do anything you're not ready for."

"I am ready. But... can we take it slow? Just for now? Just at first?"

"Okay."

She relaxes just enough to realize how exhausted she is. He notices.

"Let's do whatever you'd do if I wasn't here."

"But you are here, that's the point. Why would I want to pretend any different?"

"Maybe it will make you feel more comfortable. Routines can do that. So tell me, what would you be doing?"

"Probably getting ready for bed."

"So let's do that."

"Okay..." She can tell from his face that he's utterly serious. "I'll just go change."

"I'll be here."

She shuts her bedroom door and takes a moment to hang on to the wall. Her heart is pounding, but not necessarily in a bad way. If this felt wrong, she would feel sick to her stomach. What she feels now is more like butterflies. She changes into her pajamas – a black tank top and red bottoms – which, if not exactly sexy, are a step up from the oversized shirt of Walsh's she'd worn in New York the last time Hook interrupted her in such attire. If she'd only known then that the costumed madman who forced a kiss on her in the hallway would, less than a year later, be waiting quietly outside her bedroom with much more serious intentions, she'd have booked it to the nearest doctor.

She gives her reflection a once-over in the mirror and pinches her cheeks to give them color before going to open the door. He's waiting outside in bare feet and he's removed his jacket, but otherwise he's fully dressed. She struggles to hide her amusement.

"I thought we were going for routines here. Don't tell me that's what you wear to bed."

Killian shrugs.

"My sheets are clean!"

"Why does everyone assume that I'm dirty? Just because I'm a pirate..."

"That's not what I'm saying. But who sleeps in their clothes?"

"I do, apparently."

"Not in my bed you don't. Look, I'm sure I've got an old shirt of David's somewhere, just give me a sec."

"As you wish."

When she comes back from rummaging in the hall closet, he is sitting on the edge of the bed with the album from her parents in his lap. It is open to the page with the only picture of her and Killian alone. It is a good photo, a candid taken at Granny's, and they are both laughing at something. They look happy, and careless, and almost like a normal couple, except the photo was taken before their first official date and he is wearing his full pirate's getup. As she goes over to him, she is reminded how incredibly far from normal her life is.

"These will have to do." She sets the garments down on the bed next to him. "They should fit."

He puts the book aside. "Ah, a shirt and... a pair of short pantaloons?" He lifts them curiously, inspecting them as if they were a rare specimen.

"They're called boxers." Emma declines to mention they'd been Neal's.

"And wearing these will let me into your bed?"

"Yes. Maybe."

He lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Whatever it takes, Love."

As Emma rolls her eyes, he stands up and begins unbuttoning his vest.

"Oh, okay. I'll give you some privacy," she says quickly, and darts out of the room before he can comment on her strange embarrassment. She stands on the other side of the door and wonders at herself. This is Hook. She's never been shy around him before, so why start now? After all they've been through, why is she suddenly so disarmed by the thought of him changing in her presence? What is wrong with her? She thinks back to what Regina told her earlier, to what she'd overheard her parents discussing. It isn't that he's changing his clothes, and it isn't that she's slept alone since Walsh. She knows that, of course she knows that.

"Emma." She hears her name spoken and her heart thuds in her chest. Is this the next step? Does sharing these simple, everyday routines mean she is moving on... with him? She opens the door.

Standing in her room is a skinny, one-handed man wearing hand-me-down pjs and a wry smile, and she's struck by how remarkably ordinary he looks. Not a traveler from another time and realm, not a fairy tale villain, just a man. Just Killian. She glances to the side of the room and sees his clothes folded in a neat pile on a chair. The hook lies on top of them.

"Well," he asks, gesturing at his new attire, "what do you think?"

"I think I'm glad you don't wear that to bed too." Emma eyes the hook again and tries to keep her tone light.

"What, and run the risk of putting an eye out in the night?" His voice – warm, teasing – is so familiar, so untinged by any sense of self-consciousness, that she is set at ease.

"Besides, I promised your father you'd always be safe with me."

"Define safe," Emma says suggestively, stepping toward him.

His eyes ask a question, to which she nods, ever so slightly. He puts his arms around her, his hand warm on her back, and kisses her so hard her lips tingle.

"Will this do for a definition?"

"Hmm, I don't think this is really what my father was thinking of."

"Oh no?"

"No. Definitely not."

"Well, when I said that to your father what I meant was..."

"Killian, shut up and kiss me."

* * *

Minutes later, they are interrupted by her phone buzzing on the nightstand. Killian groans loudly and rolls off her as Emma reaches across the bed for her phone.

"Bloody hell! Can't you silence that infernal device?" he demands grumpily. "Can't the crises wait just a few more hours until morning?"

"It's not a crisis. It's a text from Henry."

"I don't believe it. For the love of God, just when we were finally about to -"

"Look," she says, showing him the phone. He squints at the glowing face and reads,

 _Fun party Mom. Congrats again on the new place. Tell Killian he owes me a doubloon._

His frown changes to a smile. "Why, the cheeky monkey!" he exclaims.

"What's this about a doubloon?"

"Just a little wager I had with Henry."

"Are you teaching my son to gamble?"

"Of course not. Would I do a thing like that?" He is all innocence.

"Then what's the wager?"

"I showed him a trick with a coin, and I said if he could guess correctly whether or not it involved magic, then he could keep it. He wagered he'd have the answer by midnight, and I wagered he wouldn't. I assume from this message he's worked it out."

"And did it? Involve magic?"

"Ah, that would be telling! But if you'd like me to show you..."

"Coin trick, huh? Bet you use that on all the ladies."

"What ladies? I see only you." He leans over to kiss her, but she pulls away.

"Wait, hold on."

"What are you doing now?" He is frustrated, and she feels badly for making him wait once again, but this is important.

"Something I should have done a long time ago."

Emma updates her contacts for Mary Margaret and David to Mom and Dad and assigns them to the group Family. Once, it was a group of one with only Henry's number. Now it finally warrants the name. Next she moves Regina Mills from the group Work to Friends, hitting Save with satisfactory emphasis. Finally she comes to the entry for Hook. She deletes the old contact name and replaces it with Killian, and then her fingers pause at the group. Work, Friends or Family? It feels like a test. The cursor blinks impatiently at her. She turns from the screen and looks at him, and he raises an eyebrow at her. She smiles, but avoids his eyes. Work, Friends or Family? Why does she have to choose? Work? Piece of work, more like. Friend? That label is too bland for what he's become to her, but Boyfriend is hardly better. Family? Her breath catches at the thought.

"What is it, Love? Is something wrong?"

"No." He is everything. He is each of them and yet more than each. Her mind alights at last on the right word. Future. She turns the phone off and sets it back on the nightstand.

"No, for once there is absolutely nothing wrong."

"Good." She hears the sigh in his voice and knows that he is genuinely relieved, and her heart gives a little lurch that she recognizes as happiness.

Emma slides back down under the covers next to him, grinning in the dark.

"Now, where were we?"


End file.
